Read Online Thunder at Dawn by Alan Evans - Free Book Online

way came off the pinnace, stopped. They drifted in silence but for the burble of water under the bow.
    Smith stared, and saw it again, was sure now. A boat was rowing around Gerda . It was halfway along the port side and creeping towards the stem, hardly moving at all, the deliberate pacing of a sentry. He watched until the boat worked around the stern of the collier and disappeared from view. It was odd behaviour for a neutral vessel in a neutral port.
    Kennedy said, “A guard-boat. That does it.”
    “That does it.” Kennedy had spoken his thoughts aloud: the operation was off. Kennedy could not dissemble. He was a sea-officer not a diplomat and he had patently disbelieved in the cruisers heading for these waters. He was not alone. Smith knew that most of the officers sided with him, including Garrick, and regarded this operation as an act of madness. He had not called for volunteers. He knew the men he wanted and named them. Kennedy was here reluctantly but because he was needed. He disliked his orders but he was obeying them.
    Smith turned to look at Kennedy and met his gaze that was both expectant and relieved. Smith saw the twitch of surprise when he said, “Not by a long shot, Mr. Kennedy. Bring up the whaler.”
    Wakely answered, “Already coming, sir.”
    The whaler sprouted oars like a man waking from sleep, arms stretching. The oars came in again as it ran alongside the pinnace. Smith gave Kennedy his orders then stepped over to sit in the stern by Somers. He paused, then called, “Sergeant Burton! Come with me.” Burton’s square bulk rose from the block of marines and he picked his way lightly them to swing over into the whaler. Smith ordered, “Give way.”
    The whaler headed across the pool, giving Gerda a wide berth, keeping out in the sheltering dark, passing her. So for another half-minute then the whaler turned and pointed back downstream, heading for the collier. Now Smith could see there was a light on her deck, aft of the bridge on the starboard side, and he could make out a dangling ladder on that side. The light was on the superstructure amidships but he could not see a man there. But there would be a lookout, somewhere. He could see the guard-boat creeping again up the port side of the collier towards the stem. He gauged the relative distances and speeds as the whaler slid down on the ship and saw that they would meet the guard-boat under Gerda’s stern and was content.
    He spoke in a hoarse whisper but his voice carried down the length of the whaler: “No shooting except in self-defence, and at this moment no shooting at all. Mr. Somers, you will need four men.” Somers picked them. They were closing the stern of Gerda now. The guard-boat had seen them, Smith could tell that from the accelerated beat of its oars and the swing of the bow towards them, before the voice lifted, the words incomprehensible but the tone enquiring, suspicious.
    Smith replied nasally, “ Kansas !” The man nearest him, bent over the oar, face only inches from Smith, gasped, “Blimey.”
    Smith continued his drawling, “Have you fellers seen anything of a swimmer? The son-of-a-bitch went over the side because his furlough was stopped and when I get my hands on him—“
    The whaler came from the direction of Kansas . There were two men in the guard-boat and they waited, listening to Smith’s impersonation, a poor impersonation but good enough to get him alongside. At the last moment one of the men yelped as the whaler swept down on him and Smith snapped, “Oars! Somers!”
    The oars came in, the whaler thumped against the boat and Somers and his four men leapt over the side like frogs to smother the men in the boat.
    “Shove off! Give way!” Smith left Somers to drift away down the port side while he took the whaler skimming down the starboard side of the Gerda to the dangling ladder. The oars came in again and he snatched at the ladder and started climbing. He heard a voice on the deck above him but right